Green, sweet melon. Take a bite and you are greeted by juice running down your chin, down your neck, and into your shirt or lap. I fill up my plate greedily. Knowing if were to eat this whole melon it wouldn't be the end of me, but an affirmation to summer fruit and living off the land I have never seen where this melon grows. But someone picked it for me. They removed it off the vine and now it's come into my home and onto my plate and it is heaven. And thank you, farmers and pickers alike. To the truck drivers and supermarket workers. This was a good one. This was a success. Knock back the juice that pools at the bottom like a shot. Nature's good ol' sugar rush to keep our eyes open and the grass growing. Honeydew cucumber face mask mojito. Night time lotion where when I go the mall I just want to root my feet and grow up, up, up, and up like I am an extension. Like I am part of it: Guardian of the Food Court; That intersection in Willowbrook where The Body Shop overlooks Starbucks, the landmark where the Court begins. The only reason why we stand guard, the only reason why there is order is because there are choices, options. We are all hungry, but able to choose our meal and sit, on a hard plastic, fake marble bench and plot our next Christmas shopping move. It's never been fun for me. No one's taught me how to do it. We throw out the rinds and the seeds and take a towel to the mess made on the table. Bald-headed man Muppet. Mr. Honeydew. Mr. Melonhead? Melon is so great because of its hydrating properties. I was thinking the other day of proscuitto and melon and my high school graduation party. It makes me feel lonely and unsure of many life choices. It makes me recall how different things were then and how different I am now. Of course, that melon was cantaloupe. And every time I have proscuitto and melon (which I not often at all), I think to myself this isn't going to work. How can these flavors work together? This is so strange. Who would have ever thought of this? But I take a bite, and it works, and the saltiness of the proscuitto mixed with the juicy sweet creamy texture/consistency of the melon just - work. I take another bite, and then another. And before I know it, I have to stop myself before I get carried away, wanting to experience the flavors again and again. Avant-garde project. Baseball with fruit. But who cleans up the mess? Do we play in the compost heap? What sort of hippie project is this? It is the dew of honey, which actually is a pretty apt description of the taste: Sweet like honey, light like dew.